


A Military Ball

by Sexxica



Series: Tumblr Ficlets Gone Wild [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Sherlock, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Captain John Watson, Coming In Pants, Kilts, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Praise Kink, Premature Ejaculation, Rimming, Shy Sherlock, Sugar Daddy John, Virgin Sherlock, Younger Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:05:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3121220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexxica/pseuds/Sexxica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and a younger Sherlock meet at a military ball with John wearing a kilt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Elderawesome](http://elderawesome.tumblr.com/) was being wonderful and sending me little Johnlock headcanons and I got VERY carried away with a response. They said: "okay but sherlock meeting john at a military ball where john's wearing a kilt and he follows him into the bathroom and sucks him off in a stall [aka easy-access blowjobs] uwu".
> 
> I combined this with an anonymous request for more shy/awkward Sherlock coming in his pants. 
> 
> Basically if you aren't [following me on Tumblr](http://sexxicawrites.tumblr.com/), or at least checking out where I keep [The Good Stuff](http://fangirlscout.tumblr.com/tagged/johnlock%20headcanons), you are missing out.

Sherlock is working as a server at a military ball. He takes one look at Captain Watson and immediately drops an entire tray of empty glasses.  Of course this gets John’s attention, and turns Sherlock into a blushing, nervous mess because that was so embarrassing and now this man is staring at him with a confident smirk on his face.

John sees the skinny, dark-haired young man and decides that he has to have him, because unf - those cheekbones and lips, that arse!  And how could he resist with the way that young thing keeps glancing nervously in his direction, those cheeks painted with such a pretty blush.  It’s completely obvious the attraction goes both ways.

So, a bit later in the evening, John goes up to the bar and orders a drink from Sherlock, putting a big tip in the cup before downing his drink in one go and giving Sherlock a wink.  John pauses at the door to the mens, looking over his shoulder at a stunned and obviously staring Sherlock.

It only takes a minute before the door swings open and Sherlock slips in to find John leaning against the far wall, arms crossed.  “Well now, aren’t you clever?”  He smiles.

Sherlock blushes and shifts awkwardly on his feet.  “Yuh-yes, Sir.” he stutters.

“Oh I like that”  John says, striding across the room and right into Sherlock’s space. “And,” John looks him up and down, “I quite like you.” he growls.  Sherlock’s eyes go wide and he swallows audibly while John reaches up to toy with his collar.  “John Watson.  Yes, or no, pretty boy?”

“S-Sherlock Holmes. And yes, please, Sir.”  Sherlock squeaks.

John moves his hand up to the back of Sherlock’s head, getting a firm grip on all that hair before surging up to kiss him hard, leading them both backward into a stall.  He gets the door closed and locked before pressing Sherlock into it, forcing a knee between his thighs and feeling how hard Sherlock already is.  “Keen, you are.” John smiles against Sherlock’s cheek, licks and bites along his jaw.

John lets his kilt ride up, rubs his bare thigh into the hard, hot bulge of Sherlock’s erection while Sherlock gasps and squirms against him.  “God, you’re gorgeous.”  John breathes against Sherlock’s ear, trails a hand down his chest, over his taut stomach, all the way down to cup Sherlock’s stiff cock through his trousers.

Sherlock gasps and lets out a quivering little moan, pressing his hips forward into John’s hand.  It feels so good, almost too good.

 “I wanted you the moment I saw you.” John says, his voice rough and low as he nips at Sherlock’s ear, gives his cock a squeeze.

“Ah! J-jesus!” Sherlock moans, his eyes fluttering shut and his cock pulsing in John’s hand, spilling in his pants.  He groans with embarrassment, his face going bright red at having come with just one touch.

“Oh you sweet, sweet boy.”  John grins before kissing Sherlock hard on the mouth, slipping his tongue inside and pressing his erection into Sherlock’s hip.  “That was incredible.   _ You’re _ incredible.”  He mumbles between kisses.

“Please,” Sherlock pants, “please I want to.”

John pulls back to look at Sherlock, “want to what, sweetheart?”

Sherlock bites his lip and musters up all his courage. “I-I want to suck your cock!” he blurts out, quickly adding a, “please, Sir.”

“Mmm you’re just a dream, aren’t you?”  John says, turning to put the toilet lid down before having a seat on it, pulling Sherlock with him to settle between his knees.

Sherlock puts his shaking hands on John’s knees, slowly pushing them up his warm, powerful thighs and moving the heavy material of his kilt up with them.  John helpfully lifts his sporran out of the way and Sherlock licks his lips as he bunches up the fabric and finally reveals John’s fat cock which is hard and red and jutting up lewdly from between his legs.

Sherlock whines and bends forward, licking up the underside of John’s cock before popping it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head.  He sucks greedily, bobbing his head and moaning when John takes a fistful of his hair.  He presses down until John’s cock butts up against the back of his throat and is rewarded with a deep groan from John.

“That’s it, baby.   _ Fuck _ your mouth is good.”

Sherlock preens inwardly and redoubles his efforts, taking John’s cock deep while he sucks and wriggles his tongue against it.  John’s fingers tighten in his hair and Sherlock lets him take control, setting a quick pace while Sherlock kneads John’s kilt in his hands.  

Sherlock listens to John’s breathing speed up, his groans each time his cock hits the back of Sherlock’s throat and he moans in return.  Sherlock slips a hand down to knead and fondle John’s balls, tugs lightly on them and John takes a shuddering breath, trying to pull Sherlock off him.  Sherlock just swats his hand away and continues sucking, sliding his tongue against John’s frenulum, licking against his leaking slit.

John grunts and comes into Sherlock’s willing mouth, running his fingers through Sherlock’s curls and throwing his head back.  Sherlock sucks lightly until John is spent, then pops off with a shy smile.  “Amazing.” John breathes and takes Sherlock’s face in his hands, bending down to kiss him.        

“I want to take you home, Sherlock Holmes.  I want to take you home and eat that perfect arse of yours until you beg me to fuck you, or you come three more times, whichever happens first.” John says with an indecent smirk.

“Oh god.”  Sherlock whimpers.

John raises an eyebrow, “is that a yes?”

“Yes, god yes.”

“Good.  Because if I don’t get to take you home, I won’t get to learn every single thing about you,  _ or _ get to make you breakfast.”  John kisses Sherlock once more, tenderly this time before pulling them both up.  

They do their best to put themselves to rights, and Sherlock thanks his lucky stars that his black work trousers hide spills and stains the way they do, even though he can feel his pants clinging stickily to himself, pulling at his pubic hair.  He grimaces a little.

“Filthy boy.  Maybe we could make time for a wash before I take you apart again, huh?”

“Please.”  Sherlock says, feeling more than a bit gross.  

“Well, come on then, sweetheart, let’s get you home.” 


	2. Chapter 2

John shows Sherlock into his spacious bathroom, handing him a silky blue striped robe and a big, fluffy towel.  “Don’t take too long, okay pretty boy?”  John winks and watches as Sherlock’s ears go bright red.  “I’ll be in the bedroom, just down the hall when you’re ready.”  

Sherlock nods a little numbly and watches John exit the bathroom, closing the door behind him.  He still isn’t exactly sure how he got so lucky to go from working a crap job for the evening, to being taken home by this amazing, handsome man.  Amazing, handsome, _ex-military_ man, Sherlock corrects himself.  And John Watson seemed to think the world of him already.  Hadn’t even been put off by the fact that Sherlock had come inside his trousers within the first five minutes of their meeting.

Sherlock strips his sticky clothes off, gives a happy little sigh as he fiddles with the taps, getting the water nice and warm before stepping into the large glass-walled shower.  Certainly large enough for two, Sherlock’s mind provides helpfully.  He needs to school his thoughts, get the perfunctory acts of getting clean, _thoroughly_ clean, out of the way so he can get back to John.

John fixes himself a drink before he retreats into his bedroom to wait for the pretty little thing he was somehow lucky enough to take home with him.  He smoothes the already smooth sheets and gets the bottle of lube and some condoms out of his bedside drawer.  He sips his scotch and considers getting undressed, but settles for removing his crisp black jacket, vest, tie and heavy sporran.  He unbuttons a few top buttons and his shirt sleeves too, rolling them up for good measure.  

There is something very interesting about Sherlock Holmes, beyond his youth and his gorgeous face and body.  John can tell that there is something more there, something untapped, but god if John doesn’t want to explore all that beautiful body first, at least for tonight.  John nearly lost his mind when Sherlock came so quickly with barely a touch and a whispered compliment.  How sensitive he must be.

John sits on the end of his bed, his knees spread wide and drink in hand.  His nerves don’t need settling; the drink is more of a celebration of his unbelievable luck.  He takes another sip and waits until he hears bare feet padding quietly down the hall toward him and he straightens up.

The robe, one of John’s, is short on Sherlock, brushing his creamy white thighs, but nearly large enough to wrap around his thin frame twice.  “Better?”  John asks.

“Much, thank you, Sir.”  Sherlock smiles shyly.  

John sets his glass down on the bedside table and walks over to Sherlock, running his hands up his arms, feeling his shower-warmed skin even through the robe.  “Is it still a ‘yes’?” John questions before going any further and Sherlock nods eagerly.  John lets his hands trail over Sherlock’s silk-covered chest, down to the ties of the robe.  “Won’t be needing this then, will you?”  John smirks, pulls the long ends of the bow and watches as the sides of the robe slip apart, revealing a swath of Sherlock’s pale skin.  He pushes it off his bony shoulders, lets it puddle on the floor at their feet.  “Gorgeous.”  John says reverently.

Sherlock chews his lower lip a little and blushes, fighting to keep his hands still at his sides and not try to cover himself.  He can already feel his cock starting to fill out as John looks him up and down, his hands resting warmly on Sherlock’s upper arms.  Sherlock’s gaze flits between John’s lips and the bit of neck and chest he can see with John’s top buttons undone.

John presses forward and kisses the slightly dazed look off Sherlock’s face, slipping his tongue past Sherlock’s lips as he pulls him close.  John’s hands glide down Sherlock’s back to grope both his arse cheeks.  John digs his fingers into the firm flesh, drawing out a low moan from Sherlock that John chases back inside his mouth.  He can feel Sherlock’s cock, hard already, pressing into his stomach.

Sherlock can’t help but rock his hips into John, putting his hands on his chest to feel the solid warmth of him.  John’s hands are all over him -- possessive, and Sherlock loves it.  He can’t help the moans that come out half-formed because John’s tongue is deep in his mouth, claiming more of him, tasting of scotch.

“Mmm,”  John hums, “I could kiss your perfect mouth for hours.  But, I made you a promise, didn’t I?”  John licks his lips and gives Sherlock a filthy little smile that makes Sherlock suck in a quick breath.  “On the bed for me, sweetheart.  On your knees.”

Sherlock nods and crawls up on the bed, feeling himself blush deeper knowing that John is watching him.  John climbs up after him, running a hand down Sherlock’s spine as he bends over, hugging a pillow to his chest.  John glides his fingers over the tempting curve of Sherlock’s arse, lightly brushes down the crack, and watches as Sherlock shivers.  

John gets himself comfortable kneeling between Sherlock’s calves, both hands on his cheeks, gently spreading him apart.  He rubs his thumbs on the tender skin where thighs meet arse, just taking a moment to admire the tight, pink pucker of Sherlock’s arsehole.  

Sherlock whines quietly and buries his face into the pillow.  He is so embarrassed.  So embarassed that John has him wide open and exposed and is just - just _looking_ at him, not doing a single thing.  Sherlock’s cock twitches and he feels the first bead of precome drip down his length.  He takes a shuddering breath in, trying to prepare himself for when John actually touches him, so he doesn’t come instantly at the contact.

John leans in close, ghosts a breath over Sherlock’s hole just to watch him shiver and hear him whine.  It’s so beautiful.  John wants to tease him more, to drive Sherlock to the edge without even touching him, but John himself is impatient to taste him.  He gives a slow, wet lick up Sherlock’s arse, from right behind his balls all the way over his hole.  

A breathy little “oh!” is Sherlock’s response.  John’s tongue is so warm, but his saliva cools quickly against his skin.  The contrast is wonderful.  And when John leans back in for more, pressing his tongue right up against Sherlock’s hole, he can’t help but moan, already feeling his balls draw up tight.

John licks and mouths at Sherlock’s arsehole with enthusiasm.  He tastes of John’s own soap and heated skin and the slight salt of sweat.  “Feel good?”  John asks.

“Yuh-yes, Sir.”  Sherlock stutters, briefly removing his face from the pillow to answer.

“You’re as delicious as you are gorgeous, sweetheart.  I can’t wait to make you come again.”  John growls and dives right back in, pushing his tongue against the tight ring of Sherlock’s muscles and kneading the flesh of his arse cheeks.    

Sherlock is breathing hard into the pillow, his cock leaking copiously as he tries - tries and tries to hold off his growing orgasm for even a minute longer.  But, John is relentless and his tongue feels amazing.  Each stroke and wriggle of it erodes Sherlock’s resolve until he is on the absolute brink.  “Sir!”  Sherlock whimpers as he feels the first pulse of his orgasm.  He spills all over the sheets below him, moaning and shuddering as he does and John just keeps tonguing his hole with abandon.

John groans as Sherlock’s pucker flutters against his tongue and Sherlock comes for the second time in the evening.  “Mmm that’s it, my sweet boy.  Don’t hold back.  So amazing.”  He murmurs into Sherlock’s hot skin.  John has to reach under his kilt to stroke his own stiff cock a few times, relieve a bit of the pressure.  Sherlock is the most arousing human being he has ever encountered; male, female, or otherwise.

Sherlock gives a shivery moan at John’s words, his body and mind in a blissful little post-orgasmic haze.  He knits his brows together as he feels John point his tongue and start to work it inside of him, loosening his spit-slick muscles while he is undoubtedly at his most relaxed.  It feels good, a little strange, but good, and now Sherlock can feel the slight scratch of John’s stubble against his cheeks.

John sets to work opening Sherlock up, pressing his tongue just inside Sherlock’s hole.  He wriggles and presses it in and out, slowly pushing more of it inside as Sherlock’s muscles relax with the attention.  Sherlock himself sighs and moans and arches so beautifully back into John that John can’t help but smile, running a hand up Sherlock’s spine to caress more of his pale skin, now starting to get slippery with sweat.

Soon John is practically fucking Sherlock’s hole with his tongue.  He pushes it in deep, his lips pressed tight to Sherlock’s skin in a filthy kiss, and swirls it inside of him, pulls it out again only to repeat the cycle.  Sherlock is writhing under him, his cock hard again after what feels like hardly any time at all, although the twinge in John’s jaw tells him that some time has, in fact, passed.

“Please,” Sherlock moans out.

John pulls off him with an obscene slurp, rubbing his thumbs over the pink, open, spit-covered skin of Sherlock’s hole.  “What do you need, baby?”

“Touch me, please Sir?”  Sherlock begs, his cock almost aching hard again with all of John’s attention.  It somehow doesn’t feel like enough, and Sherlock isn’t sure how, because he is pretty confident that John could just look at him the right way and he would come so hard his knees would give out.

“Gladly, sweetheart.  Whatever you want, you only have to ask.”  John bends back down, resuming tongue-fucking Sherlock’s hole as he reaches under him, taking his stiff cock in hand.  Sherlock bucks against him, groaning, but John holds him steady with the hand still firmly placed on his arse.  “God, you’re so wet for me.  You’re unbelievable, Sherlock.”  John groans, giving Sherlock’s cock a slow tug, spreading his wetness.

Sherlock feels like his heart is trying to hammer its way out of his chest when John touches him, strokes him, praises him.  “A-ahh!” He moans, too overwhelmed to form the words that he truly wants to expresses.   _Yes Sir.  Thank you, Sir.  It’s all for you, Sir.  Please make me come again, Sir.  I want it so bad._

  John buries his tongue in Sherlock’s arse as he jerks him off quicker, Sherlock’s hitching breaths letting him know how close he is.  John hums against Sherlock’s flesh, strokes him in earnest as his own cock rests heavy and neglected between his thighs.  He doesn’t care, this is all about Sherlock now - all about how much pleasure John can give to this gorgeous, clever creature.

“Ohh yess!” Sherlock almost shouts as yet another orgasm overtakes him, this time with John stroking him to completion.  He shivers and twitches with it, adding to the mess that is already beneath him.  He lays his head on the pillow, panting and undoubtedly a bit red in the face.  

John rubs a hand up Sherlock’s back, between his shoulder blades, soothing and giving him a moment to catch his breath.  “Gorgeous, baby, so gorgeous.  You still want to go for that third?”

Sherlock whimpers at the thought but bites his lip and smiles, before he nods because yes, oh god, yes he wants to try for a third … technically fourth orgasm of the evening.  

“Is it alright if I put my fingers inside you, sweetheart?”  John asks kindly.

“Yes, Sir.”  Sherlock answers and watches as John reaches over to the bedside table for the bottle of lube.  Sherlock hears him pop the cap, then a moment passes before he feels the cold stuff brush against his sensitive hole on the tips of John’s fingers.

John eases two fingers inside Sherlock’s already slightly loosened hole.  He is still so tight - so tight and so warm and John slowly moves his fingers in and out of him.  Sherlock whines a little, but rocks his hips with John’s movements.  John leans over again, kissing and biting at the flesh of Sherlock’s arse cheeks as we works his fingers in and out, scissoring them and gently loosening Sherlock further.

Sherlock is absolutely out of his mind.  He feels so good and every touch from John is enough to light all his nerves on fire.  It is a shockingly short period of time before his cock is twitching with interest and starting to fill out again as John moves his fingers inside Sherlock’s arse.  He’s so good at it.  Sherlock has never had anything more than fingers inside of himself.  He’s always been so embarrassed about how quickly he comes, and so generally disinterested in other people, that he just hasn’t ever gone further.

John notices Sherlock starting to get hard again and decides to spur things along.  He adds a third slick finger to Sherlock’s hole, working them slowly for a bit before angling them and purposefully brushing against Sherlock’s prostate.

“J-jesus!” Sherlock nearly gasps, his spine arching and his head leaving the pillow as he straightens up.  That felt amazing and his cock is suddenly at full attention.

John simply does it again.  Letting his fingers drag across the sensitive spot with every second or third pass as he works to loosen Sherlock’s muscles further.  Sherlock shudders and moans thrusts his hips back into John’s hand as sweat drips down his back.  John doesn’t say anything, just continues his onslaught hoping that Sherlock will beg to have his cock inside him before he comes again.

Sherlock is hardly sure what has come over him, but again he feels like he needs more - like John’s fingers aren’t enough anymore even though from all of his limited experience he thinks they should be more than sufficient.  “Sir, please.  I haven’t … but I want, I-I need…”  Sherlock babbles, clearly not getting his point across.

John stills his fingers for a moment.  “What was that, sweetheart?”

Sherlock drags in a breath, trying to organize his thoughts.  “I want you to fuck me, please Sir!” he says in a rush, his cheeks flushing bright red.  “B-but I’ve never…”  He trails off, too mortified to actually admit he has never been properly fucked.

“Sherlock,”  John says, his tone serious, “are you a virgin?”

“Technically?” Sherlock squeaks back.

John groans and pushes his fingers into Sherlock a little deeper.  “No one has ever had their cock inside this delicious arse of yours?”  John clarifies.

“N-no.”  Sherlock answers.

It’s John’s turn to take in a steadying breath.  “Are you sure want this? Want _me ?_ ”

“God, yes.  Please, Sir.  Please fuck me! I want it, I do.”  Sherlock sounds desperate now.  Desperate and completely wrecked. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

John can’t help but groan again, carefully pulling his fingers out of Sherlock and reaching to grab a condom, ripping the package and rolling it on his incredibly stiff cock.  “You better still be here in the morning, or I’ll think I dreamed you up.”  John mutters and Sherlock turns his head to look back at him.

“I will be, Sir.  I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.”

John smiles at him, giving his head an incredulous shake.  “That’s what I’m talking about, pretty boy, you’re too good to be true.”  John inches forward, lifting his kilt out of the way as he places the tip of his cock against Sherlock’s opening.  “Just … just tell me if you need to stop.”

“Yes, Sir.”  Sherlock says breathily, settling his head back on the pillow, trying to keep his breathing calm even as he feels his pulse skyrocket again.  John’s cock feels so big against him, and when he pushes forward, breaching Sherlock’s hole for the first time, Sherlock groans with the little spark of pain.  It doesn’t last though, and as John slowly push-pulls into him, his body relaxes and lets him in, lets John fill him completely.

“ _Fuck_ you’re tight, baby.”  John moans when he sinks all the way into Sherlock, skin meeting skin and the rough wool of John’s kilt bunching up between them.  “You alright?”

“Yess,”  Sherlock whines, “ohh, yess.  P-please, Sir.  Fuck me, I _need_ it.”

“God, how could I resist that?”  John breathes, pulling his hips back and snapping them forward again.  Sherlock feels incredibly good - so tight and hot and he is rocking back into John’s thrusts with wanton little moans.  John grips his hips tightly, fucks him quick and hard because he can’t hold back any longer, not with Sherlock’s virgin arse fluttering around him, driving him to the edge.

“S-so good!” Sherlock stutters, his words broken off by the force of John’s thrusts.  

“Unh, you have no idea, pretty boy.”  John grunts.

Sherlock can’t believe how good it feels to have John’s thick cock inside of him, the wool of his kilt a constant reminder against Sherlock’s skin that John is still fully clothed - fully in control, and choosing to give Sherlock a world of pleasure.  Suddenly John’s cock pushes, drags against Sherlock’s prostate and _oh that’s even better_.  Sherlock feels his cock throb with it, his arsehole clenching around John as he whines.

John groans, long and low, trying to hold off his own orgasm until Sherlock comes again, but it feels so amazing he isn’t sure how much longer he can fight it off.  He decides to play dirty.  “Your arse is incredible, sweetheart.  So perfect.  Ahh.  So perfect just like your mouth and your sweet cock and your gorgeous body.”  John thrusts faster, hearing Sherlock’s breath starting to hitch.  “I can’t wait to feel you come.  It’s going to be so good, baby.  I can’t believe you’ve come three times for me already you amazing, filthy boy.”

“Aah! Unh! Sir!”  Sherlock nearly screams, even though his throat is feeling raw from his panting, and somehow comes again.  Hardly anything comes out of him this time but the feeling is just as intense.  All his muscles clench and spasm and he hears John gasp and groan, feels his cock get impossibly thicker inside of him as he comes too.   

John tips over the edge seconds after Sherlock - Sherlock’s muscles practically milking him as they tense and release over and over again.  John truly can’t believe Sherlock’s stamina, his ability to have twice the orgasms in the same amount of time.  It’s stunning.  John pulls out with care and discards the condom.

Sherlock flops over with a weak but satisfied moan, somehow managing to avoid the large wet spot he made on the sheets.  John curls up around him, pulling him close and pressing kisses to the back of his neck and his shoulders. “You’re remarkable.  Extraordinary, Sherlock.” He mutters.

“Thank you, Sir.”  Sherlock says quietly.

“Are you okay?”

“Mmm yes, Sir.”  Sherlock sighs.

“You know you could call me John, right?” he chuckles, hugging Sherlock tight to him.

“I know, Sir.”  Sherlock answers, wriggling in a little closer.

“Or, if you wanted,” John starts out slowly, cautiously, “you could always call me … Daddy.”

John can actually feel the way Sherlock’s heart thuds against his ribcage as it expands with his quick inhale.  For a moment John is worried that he’s frightened the boy and is about to take it back.

“Can I … can I really call you Daddy?”  Sherlock almost whispers.

“Of course, sweetheart, but only if you want to.”

Sherlock squirms in John’s arms, turning around to face him, look him in the eyes.  John can see himself reflected in Sherlock’s dark pupils, his eyes are so wide.  “I want to,”  Sherlock pauses briefly, bites his lip, looking shy again, “Daddy.”

“Perfect.”  John breathes, closing the distance and kissing Sherlock, his most wonderful boy, on the lips.


End file.
